


Poisoned Trepidation

by DJubilant



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Aphrodisiacs, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dimitri thinks of everyone in THAT way, F/M, Feral Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, Grinding, I think I speak for all of us when I say I want Dimitri to have nice things, Mild Gore, Mild Pregnancy Scare, Porn with Feelings, Self Loathining, Vaginal Sex, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-12
Updated: 2019-11-12
Packaged: 2021-01-29 01:17:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21401773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DJubilant/pseuds/DJubilant
Summary: After the defense of Garreg Mach, Byleth finds Dimitri hidden away in the chapel, seemingly poisoned.Everything besides Dimileth is more fantasization than actual smut. Mild aphrodisiac fic fueled by thirst and a wish for more aphrodisiac fics in the FE3H tag
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Blue Lions Students, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/My Unit | Byleth
Comments: 4
Kudos: 218





	Poisoned Trepidation

The arrow soared through the air, wind whistling through the feathered fletching and, with a definitive crack, pierced the armor that covered the daunting figure of the Faerghus king-to-be like a shell. A grunt of pain escaped him, before he leveled his gaze on the archer who'd landed the lucky blow. The Empire man faltered, and Dimitri's face split in a wide, chaotic grin as he charged forward, closing the gap between them before the archer could knock another arrow in his bow. He lunged forward, tackling the man to the ground. With a howl like a wild animal, he broke the shaft of the arrow at the point of entry in his body and raised it high in the air like a trophy. Time seemed to move in slow motion, before the jagged edge of the splintered wood was brought down, piercing the archer’s eye in a sick, mirror image of the beast that straddled him. Dimitri’s eyes glittered, and a triumphant bellow echoed from deep in his chest as the man screamed and clawed at his black armor.

The free hand that wasn’t currently digging into the man’s brain matter with the arrow shaft curled around the struggling man’s throat, and Dimitri sneered as the archer’s remaining eye moved frantically over his features. Saliva and foam bubbled at the corners of his mouth, and his hands moved to struggle pathetically against the strong, clawed hand that pinned him into the mud and blood soaked ground. Dimitri did not understand what the man was saying, did not care what pitiful attempts at begging the Adrestian archer could possibly offer him; only that when the dying man’s windpipe snapped under his unrelenting grip, for a brief moment, his head was silent. The constant noise that plagued him day in and day out, the never ending barrage of voices begging and demanding blood for the fallen; it all fell silent, and for a moment, Dimitri knew peace.

As suddenly as it had come, it was ripped from him in an instant. The world came crashing back on the blonde man, and his ears were flooded with the sounds of the battle around them. He blinked, his one good eye taking on a grainy feeling, as he finally glanced up from the fletching protruding from the dead man’s skull. Screams found him amongst the wreckage of Garreg Mach, and suddenly his body felt too warm.

Too tight.

He could hear people calling to him, but it was muffled, like they were speaking through walls or a pillow… He scrunched his face, wondering why the thought of someone screaming into a pillow would be one of his first thoughts. He glanced in the direction of a form running towards him, and after blinking to clear his vision, recognized the dark hair and pale complexion. He watched Felix vault over a pile of rubble that was once a low fence, and took careful notice of just how high his boots went up his lithe legs as he braced himself for impact, before taking off running again. Dimitri groaned, the bundle of muscle that the arrowhead was still lodged in burning like an ember in a lush forest. He heard another shout, higher this time, and turned to see Mercedes, her face stitched with worry. She was mouthing something as she ran, raising her hands as magic surrounded her like a flurry of snow, and he almost lost himself in the mesmerizing way her veil fluttered behind her, the tightness of her collar seizing him by the throat like a noose.

He tried swallowing the knot that had formed in his throat, but felt like he might choke on his own swollen tongue.

‘Poison,’ he thought to himself, his head filling back up with static and a roar of voices that just wouldn’t leave him to die. He took a shuddering breath, but caught it as one familiar voice burst through his conscious, like a breath of fresh, icy air against his burning insides.

_“DIMITRI!”_

His head snapped toward the sound, and the fire that burned in the wound in his chest blazed at the sight of her as the edges of his vision went dark. His pretty professor was running toward him, carving down anyone that dared to try and interrupt her path, howling like a banshee as she fought her way back to him. He shuddered as he noticed her scowl of disdain as more men flung themselves to stop her, and his body lurched forward at every swivel of her body as she ricocheted from target to target, like a dancer moving from one partner to the next. He felt hands on his chest, under his arms, pulling him from the lifeless body that was growing cold underneath him. A pitiful moan bubbled from his lips, and he could hear Dedue’s familiar, husky voice speaking, but did not understand the words. It was like a foreign language, the words spoken between his Blue Lions, as Annette and Ashe entered his diminishing sight. He thought he heard Sylvain, but it was all a mumbled blur as suddenly too many hands touched his scorching flesh. He felt the air about him pick up, and heard the far off braying of a pegasus. Ingrid’s features fluttered across his thoughts, peppered with the aching question of what else would be affected by her skill with riding...

Images of unspeakable acts flashed behind his eyelids, narrowing his vision even more as he tried to shake them away. Behind all of the scenarios, he knew all he wanted was to see a breathless Byleth over him, but that did not come to pass before unconsciousness pulled him into a deep abyss.

He did not know for how long he was out, but when Dimitri came back to the land of the living, his skin was covered in sweat, and his mouth and throat felt as dry as they had in the Valley of Torment. He gasped, his lips trembling to make any sound, and he forced himself to sit up. Dimitri’s body burned, an unending ache rolling like waves in his lower gut. He grit his teeth, and forced his sight to focus. He recognized the plain stone work of the dormitories, the air stale from remaining still in time for almost five years. He shifted, and listened. Muffled voices filtered through the door. His body ached for something, but his mind raced to make sense of his lost time. His vision was still blurred, but the growing fire in his belly annoyed him more. He growled, and slipped from his bed, peeling the thinning blankets from his sweat slicked skin. The voices faltered, and the door opened to give way to Sylvain and Ingrid. 

“You’re awake! Thank the Goddess,” Ingrid spoke softly; as if she’d frighten the man away if she spoke any louder, and marched to a wash basin on the desk, wringing the cloth that hung over the side with gentle hands. She moved to stand next to Sylvain, gently dabbing the cool water over Dimitri’s forehead and cheeks. They shared a glance that almost looked too meaningful for childhood friends, and Sylvain’s hands were once more on him firmly. The pressure in his stomach broiled, and Dimitri clasped a large gloved hand over the red-head’s wrist, capturing him by surprise.

“Now now, Your Highness; you’re soaked to the bone! Why don’t we get you some clean clothes? I’m sure it’ll help,” Sylvain teased, tugging to try and free his wrist away from Dimitri’s iron grip.

“How long?” Dimitri grunted out past parched lips, gripping even tighter. The flush that graced Sylvain’s features caught his attention, and he suddenly wanted to see more of the sight as Sylvain struggled even more fervently to relinquish the hold on him. “How long have I been out?”

The full sentence seemed to break the man’s want to struggle, and Sylvain’s kind eyes found his.

“Only a day and a half. Mercie was the one to stabilize you while the Professor did a pretty fantastic job of digging that arrowhead out of you; said she’d had her fair share of lucky shots as a mercenary,” Sylvain had to use his other hand to pry off Dimitri’s fingers, and before he could reach out to grab either one again, the two stepped back out of reach, towards the door. The water that had been on his forehead did little to cool him off, and he once again found himself burning up. His former classmates took notice, and it was Ingrid’s turn to express concern.

“You should rest; You still look pale. I’ll find the Professor and Mercedes, and we’ll see if there’s anything growing in the greenhouse that can help bring the fever down.”

She took Sylvain’s hand, but faltered, and let go before making her way to the door. The other man looked confused at the sudden touch, but followed her nonetheless. Dimitri let out a low groan as the door closed, and doubled over, clutching his stomach. He squeezed his legs together, and let out a sharp sound as the friction against his loins made the fire in his stomach subside a bit. He froze, his breath caught in his throat as he tried to make sense of the situation. He couldn’t tell if his face was hot from the fever, or from the blush that creeped up to his ears. With a quick glance at the door, he pushed himself up, stumbling to the wash basin with a muffled moan as he became acutely aware of how much friction his pants generated. Clutching the sides of the bowl, his mind buzzed as he tipped it up to his lips. He thanked his lack of taste, for he was sure the water was a mixture of well water and sweat from his affliction, but his parched throat didn’t care. He gasped as he drained the bowl dry, and his lower abdomen gave a reminding throb.

Dimitri’s thoughts swirled, before landing on what Ingrid had said before leaving. He couldn’t let Mercedes or the Professor see him like this. His body grew warmer thinking about the two women in the same room as him, as he was now, and he cursed. What was he thinking? A wet growl built in his chest, and he grabbed his cloak that had been hung up too nicely for what he felt any of his possessions deserved. He paused, the soft smell of lavender wafting from the fur lining. Dimitri’s hand twitched as he fought the urge to press his nose into the fur and inhale, and his groin swelled with a new fire as he threw the cloak over his shoulders. He thought of the fabric being held by the sweet, gentle arms of Mercedes, the fur tickling her soft flesh-

He shook his head, forcing the thoughts to the back of his mind with a pained whine. He had to get out of this room before he suffocated, or worse, the two women got there to give him medical attention that may or may not make his affliction worse or better. With a defiant breath, he eased the door open, listening for any others that might be watching the door. Silence greeted him, and Dimitri thanked the Goddess for her small mercies. He bit down the soft moans and yelps that threatened to give away his attempt at stealth as he all but bounded down the stairs, cursing at the random soldiers and previous classmates that had made their way back to the Monastery after all these years. His body ached, screaming for possible relief as he found himself in the broken chapel’s remains. He breathed heavily as he looked up at the sky through the torn in roof, and only then realized just how late it was getting. It explained why the chapel itself was unusually quiet and devoid of at least one grieving parishioner. 

Dimitri hadn’t realized that his jaw was locked, and let a shaky breath leave his chest as he relaxed it, relishing in the mild throbbing pain that resonated through his jaw.

Silence surged around him, and he closed his eye, awaiting the eventual return of the voices that had burrowed in and followed his thoughts for so long. Instead, the sound of clattering caught his attention. He snapped his head to the side, glaring over his shoulder to see who’d followed him. The Professor’s figure stood illuminated in the moonlight, dwarfed by the large cathedral doors. His breath hitched in his throat, and he glanced away, clenching his fists at his side. How did she-

“I thought I’d find you here,” she said, breathless. The way her words moved through the silence mesmerized him, like a siren song pulling him towards her. He ground his feet into the ground, steeling himself as he heard her walking towards him. The clacking of her boots drew closer, and he could almost feel her body heat as she came to stand beside him. Dimitri refused to meet her gaze, even if his height gave him an advantageous look at other more prominent features of hers…

“Why did you bother coming here?” He asked gruffly, trying to find a way to get her to leave. If he could just upset her somehow, scare her away, then maybe he’d find some peace.

She watched him closely, a hand hanging in the air, almost as if she were contemplating taking his hand like he’d seen Ingrid take Sylvain’s. A flare burst through his body, and he gave a shallow, wheezing sigh, prompting Byleth to take that extra step towards him to lay a strong, but gentle hand on his forearm. The touch was electrifying, and all the nerves in his arm seemed to light with the same fire that had burned in him since that arrow pierced his skin. A snarl rippled through him, his other hand latching onto Byleth’s arm as he twisted to face her. He lifted her arm up and away from him, a few inches up further and she’d be on her tiptoes. The woman jumped at the sudden movement, her gaze snapping up to meet Dimitri’s piercing gaze.

“Why do you insist on torturing me?” He ground out, his attention flitting between her startled expression, and the blush that was creeping across the top of her exposed chest. His throat constricted as she opened her mouth, expecting a scream of terror or a plea for him to release her. Instead, what he got was worse.

“I’m sorry, Dimitri,” she spoke with a slight tremor, probably from the cold breeze that made its way from the still open church doors up the rubble to the hole in the ceiling, “I didn’t mean to frighten you. I just wanted to make sure that your fever had broken and that you were healing properly, yet when Mercie and I got to your room you-”

He cut her off by taking a few steps forward, pushing her backwards. A snarl pulled his lips into a cruel smile that bore his teeth.

“And now that you’ve found me? Will you play your teacher role and scold me, dear professor? Would you do the same for that vile wretch of a woman if you’d chosen her, instead?”

He watched her reaction to his words, a disgusting bit of him delighting in the way her mouth opened and closed slightly, trying to find the right words. Her arm went slack in his grip, her eyes searching his face for some crack in the facade that Dimitri had built up between them.

“I… Only want the best for you, Dimitri. I couldn’t be there for you at the beginning of all this madness, but now that I’m here, I’m never leaving you again.”

Dimitri groaned deeply, his muscles twitching with restraint at her words. He needed her to leave, to make the heat escape him. A small part of his mind flooded with shame at the way his body reacted to her lithe arm in his grip, hanging above her head. Another part purred in the back of his mind, easing him to the idea of looking down her bodice with a lustful pang of heat that seared through his armor. The two opposing sides were maddening, yet they kept the voices of the dead at bay as they bickered about the morality of bending his former professor over a church pew, just to see if that would make the fire dwindle, or engulf him entirely. He felt monstrous at the thought.

As his breathing stuttered, Byleth’s free hand reached up and gently grazed over his cheek. She watched with worry filled eyes as his blue eye fluttered behind heavy, darkened lids, and she could swear that she saw a little bit of that confused, frightened young man that she’d first seen at the Officer’s Academy. Just as suddenly, he was gone; replaced with the beastly hull that loomed over her, bearing down on her with immense size and presence. His grip tightened above her, and his other hand shot up, grasping her neck and tilting her head backwards before pressing his lips to hers. The touch was almost hesitant at first, before an overwhelming intensity took over him, and Byleth groaned at the feeling of teeth pulling on her lower lip.

Dimitri’s mind buzzed angrily, cursing at himself for his sign of weakness and his professor for once again letting him get away with his whims with little more than a second glance. He delved into her with his tongue, tilting her backwards even further with just how much taller he’d grown in the past five years. Small, muffled mewls bubbled up from Byleth’s chest, and Dimitri pulled away, allowing her to gasp for fresh air. Her face was flushed, her lip plump from his biting, and the fire in his body burned hotter. His hand that held her arm up dropped, moving to settle on her lower back as he pulled her towards one of the remaining benches that littered the room. He brought himself down, shifted to pull her halfway onto his lap, and moved to position a leg between her thighs. He held her against his chest, and gave a small thrust of his hips, moving both of them against the other. Byleth’s face turned scarlet as she fought to maintain some semblance of a professional composure befitting a professor, but ultimately failed as a soft moan escaped from behind her pursed lips.

He cursed outwardly, his mind a foggy blur as all he could think about was the need to hear, to feel, to see more. He wanted more of her; he wanted to drown completely in her and everything that she was. Dimitri would accept an early death if it was to Byleth.

That is, until her hand came down to the arm that held her against him, and used it as a stabilizing force to grind even more against him. Her own body was a burning star against his; he could feel the warmth radiating off her, seeping through his armor and making a thin trail of sweat traverse down his aching back muscles. The way her eyes went out of focus as she moved startled him, but the carnal desire to see more of her budding reactions spurred him to move up against her, meeting her movements with his own frantic rutting.

Her mouth moved silently, but as he watched her face, he realized that she was saying his name over and over with breathless abandon. Dimitri’s gaze wandered down to his leg, drinking in the sight of her juices soaking through her shorts. He regretted not wearing his full armor, the mental image of just how much more glistening the black armor would be in the moonlight, dripping with his professor’s ecstasy, too much for his burning body to bear. His thoughts turned darker, and he smothered the feelings of disgust at himself as he buried his face into the crook of her neck. Her smell was an intoxicating blend of sweat and lingering smoke from the kitchens open stovetops, and he could not help himself as he followed the curvature of her throat with his tongue. A startled yelp caught in her chest as he sunk his teeth into her flesh, effectively holding her in place. His other hand trailed from her throat, moving to grip her hips tightly. Byleth let out a hiss as Dimitri’s thrusts grew more feverish against her clothed thigh. She moved to pepper kisses and feather light touches across his face and neck, and a pang of guilt twisted in his gut. His skin prickled under her touch, unintentional trails of fire following her fingertips.

'Why…' he thought desperately amongst the growing heat, 'Why do you treat me so kindly?'

Byleth's ragged breathing tickled his ear as she took his head in her arms, pressing him even closer to her chest as she readjusted her knees on the wooden pew. He pulled away slightly, looking up to meet her gaze. Those thoughts from before returned as he bathed in her warmth. Revulsion at himself and his lust fueled actions filled his mind, but the way Byleth was looking at him with such adoration made it worse. He was torn between either wanting those eyes to look at him like he was her lifeline to the world, or for her to look at and fear him for the monster that he was.

He couldn't help the pained whine that left him as one of her hands deftly moved over where the arrow had pierced him, and the pity that clouded Byleth's expression made him feel even worse than the pain he had felt on the battlefield. He wanted, no, needed her to look away. Dimitri could almost physically feel his resolve cracking under her soft touches and sighs.

'Goddess, forgive me,' he thought briefly, and grasped her arm. With little more effort than what he needed to snap a man's neck, he pushed her forward and off him, then twirled her to face away from him. His free hand was already working himself out of his pants, praising the warm night air, before grasping the top of her own shorts and yanking them down. He hooked a finger through the tights that she wore underneath, catching her underwear with the crook of his finger. With a fluid movement, he pulled the fabric to the side, ripping the thin, lacy material. His breath caught in his throat at the sight of her, wet and rosy and just begging for him to-

"Dimitri, are you-"

Byleth's questioning voice trembled with worry, and her arm twitched in his grip. She started to crane her neck back over her shoulder, but his sudden broken cry stopped her.

"Please don't," his words were barely a whisper, "Please don't... look at me… like that. I don't deserve your concern. A monster doesn't deserve the mercy of worry."

Byleth flinched at the word 'monster'. He practically spit the word out like it was poison, and Byleth's chest ached at the thought that he truly believed what he was saying about himself. She glanced up at the dilapidated ceiling, like the stars themselves would grant her the necessary words to say. All that hung between them was Dimitri's labored breathing as if he himself was trying to regain control of himself over the heat that was slowly rebuilding in his body.

"I don't see you that way," Byleth finally stated, "A monster wouldn't distance themselves to protect others. It would destroy and ravage, with little care of the destruction that is brought in its wake. You aren't the monster you see yourself as, Dimitri."

Her words struck him like a punch to the jaw. Her arm slipped from his grasp, but she remained facing forwards. 

"You care; Even now, even with all the chaos and misfortune that has befallen those around you," she spoke softly, readjusting herself over his own hips. Dimitri's chest burned as he fought for air, the sight of her still torn tights holding his eyes. His member throbbed as she guided him into her, settling herself down to his hips as her words cradled him.

"You have been through so much; you think yourself unworthy of life and joy. It hurts to admit, but you deserve so much more than I can give you. You deserve love and care and peace, no matter what your inner turmoil may have you think otherwise."

Tears pricked at the corner of Dimitri's good eye, further threatening to break him to his core. The fire that raged in his groin rekindled as Byleth rocked her hips, and a deep moan rumbled through her chest. Dimitri's hips instinctively snapped up, and the two found a rhythm that left them both at a loss of breath and words. He wanted to scold her, remind her of all the atrocities he'd committed in those five years she was gone…

But, all he could do was give in to her warmth, rutting wildly into her like a simple minded, feral animal. The thought crossed his mind that Felix was indeed right about him. His fingers dug into the soft flesh of Byleth’s hips, eliciting gentle gasps and feverish moans from the woman who had all but bared her life to him in their academy days. She was gripping his thighs just above his knees, barely keeping herself steady amidst his unrelenting pace. Her warmth pulsed around him, and even that made him feel guilty. It was inviting, accepting… Everything that he felt deep in his heart that he was undeserving of. The feeling of her nails biting through his clothing snapped him back to her, his gaze catching hers over her shoulder, and his mind was suddenly flooded with an incessant fear that she would finally see him for the monster he had been warning her about. Instead, she gave a soft breath, and in the silence of the cathedral, one word drifted to him like a petal in a stream.

_“Harder.”_

It was as much a demand as a plea, and with a choked moan that bubbled from Dimitri’s lips, all semblance of restraint was shattered. Byleth’s head snapped forward in shock as he set upon her, ramming into her, losing himself deeper and deeper into the feeling that was so genuinely her. A gloved hand snaked to her front, finding the sensitive bundle of nerves with almost tactile precision that conflicted with the wild, erratic thrusts that sent shooting stars behind Byleth’s eyelids. Her lips couldn’t help but curve up in a smile at the difference, knowing deep down in her heart that this was still the same Dimitri, after all. She spurred him on with breathless, needy whines that urged for more and faster and just in that spot.

Her voice shook with each word, as if she was hanging on to the man not only with her hands, but her ability to speak, as well. Her breath hitched, and a ball in the pit of her stomach started to build and grow, ready to burst with each thrust. She bit her lip, willing herself to keep her composure for just a little bit longer, but even with all her combat training for increased stamina, the Boar Prince’s own strength and ferocity overtook her, and with a last keening cry of his name, Byleth felt that warmth in her blossom as she came on top of him. Dimitri’s own motions became stuttered, moving to more rapid, shallow thrusts to stay in the trembling, pulsing warmth that threatened to milk him dry. His own climax took him not too long after, his Professor’s shuddering breaths and continued cries of his name urging him over the edge that he’d sat at since he’d re-awoken at the Monastery. As he came, it was like a warm peace overtook him. Neither the intense, searing pain, nor the voices of the dead haunted him. His gaze turned up from where he and Byleth still sat joined, up to the side of her face that was turned to him. He saw what he could only hope was the faintest bit of a smile, and as his mind worked through the situation that had just transpired, he found himself thinking briefly about certain teas and herbs that he’d once heard the nurses speaking of for contraception. 

After all, he thought, who would want to be burdened with the cub of a beast?


End file.
